Hospital Blues
by FukiyoseSeirichan
Summary: Kamijou Touma, now working as a law enforcer, breaks his leg during an operation and ends up in the emergency room. His attending physician turns out to be none other than Fukiyose Seiri, whom he hasn't seen in almost seven years. Sparks fly, in more ways than one, between the two former classmates. Partly inspired by RebelCris's "Iron Heart" but a police version.
1. Chapter 1

It's not that Kamijou likes hospitals but for obvious reasons, he just can't avoid landing into one.

Children screaming, adults sobbing, the scent of penetrated flesh and scattered blood. It was an amalgam of human suffering, both those with physical pain and those dealing with the emotional trauma of bringing and losing loved ones in the last lifeline. It was something he had become all too familiar with even before becoming a police officer for the National Police Agency's main headquarters in Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo. Kamijou Touma just never expected to end up in the Emergency Room himself, at least not for stupid but surprisingly expected reason. All policemen knew they could someday find themselves waking up (or not waking up at all in the sake for police duty) in the hospital. Theirs was a career fraught with risk and danger akin to military personnel or firefighters. However, his road to the ER had not been paved by a hellish fight with the Yakuzas or the crackdown on smuggled goods but instead, it was a certain accident that happened due to the carelessness and stupidity of a certain case he was pursuing. These things could only happen to him.

Sighing, he dropped his head back on the bristly pillow and stared up at the sterile, white ceiling like how he used to pass his time during his old days as a high school student. He was counting the textured tiles, wondering when the hell an actual doctor was going to drag his or her ass in to see him, when the light green curtain cordoning off his bed from the others was roughly jerked back. The metal hooks holding it in place screamed in protest at the violent movement, causing him to twist his head in response to the incoming person.

"Chief Inspector, we have your X-Rays back and you—," the person speaking trailed off as she stepped into the makeshift room and saw Kamijou lying prostrate on the hospital bed. Her eyes widened in recognition behind her stylish, thick-framed rectangular glasses.

Kamijou, though, had been able to identify the slim young woman as soon as he had heard that voice. High-pitched, active, melodic, and brimming with both haughtiness and pride. For the entire three years he had studied at a certain high school, that arrogant and superior voice never failed to make him nearly retreat in instinct whenever they meet up in their classes, which they have become classmates for three straight high school years. It had also somewhat aroused him on more than one occasion, the thought of that formal voice always ready to give him and his two friends back then the sermon. Not that he had ever acted on his feelings or shit because even then, he didn't really wanted to get his face bashed even more and then there was Misaka Mikoto and Index Librorum Prohibitorum and all the stuff that they had done together and, no, he didn't want to think about such bitter things right now.

It was funny that, even after ten years, he still recognized it, as well as the slim woman now staring at him. However, he hadn't expected to ever meet again, and certainly not under these circumstances. That old twinge of ... what attraction? Lust? Irritation? It momentarily knocked at him but he violently squashed it. He really wasn't in any position to think about, let alone act, on such stupid, misdirected feelings.

"Ehh? Fukiyose? You're here in this hospital?" He bolted upright instead, pointing a finger as he let out a confused voice.

The ever-sadistic Fukiyose Seiri pushed up her thick-rimmed glasses with two fingers and sniffed haughtily. "I never expected that the supposed police officer from the National Police Agency was still the imbecile idiot that I had for a high school classmate..."

"And I see you're still the same person who would like to give us an earful," Kamijou bared his teeth in an almost feral grin. Yes, this was actually better for the young man. Their snarling and yapping at each other, much better than old, lost, juvenile emotions of their youths.

"Hmph…" Fukiyose just narrowed her eyes and looked down to consult the chart in her hands. "It says here you were placed by Commissioner General Motoyama Teruo as the head of the National Police Agency's Counter International Terrorism Division of the Security Bureau. I wouldn't have expected you to pick a job where you have to actually make life and death decisions. It seems a little taxing for someone of your low mental … comprehension…"

"Geez, cut me off some clack, will you? If anything, I didn't expect you to become a doctor," Kamijou said pleasantly, waving a hand towards the white coat Fukiyose wore over her light blue scrubbing suit, "If anything, I'd expect you to become a freelancer at Academy City. I can't believe you actually take that stick out of your ass long enough to interact with your patients. Oh and what's with the thick-framed glasses? Can't see any longer?" There was a smile on his lips, but his cyan eyes were smoldering. Fukiyose glared back and sparks were practically flying across the room.

Finally, Fukiyose heaved a sigh and shook her head. "I don't have time to get sucked into a childish war of words, and neither do you, Mister Police Officer…" She spat bitterly as she closed the curtain, walked over to the view box, and slapped the X-Ray she had been holding onto it. A flip of the switch and both of them had a close, up and personal view of the inside of Kamijou's thigh and torso. "Your leg is partially broken," Fukiyose continued brusquely, "And you have violet bruises in both legs…"

"Well, no shit," Kamijou responded dully, "I sort of figured that out when I saw the bone sticking out of my thigh. They teach you to state the obvious in medical school at Academy City, huh?" Just thinking about it though brought a resurgence of nausea, seeing that white object pushing through muscle and skin, bright red blood spurting out in pulses that echoed the too-rapid beat of his heart. Thank Kami-sama, Buddha, his fellow officer in Toyama Kinshiro and another officer in Aoki Shinobu, he was immediately rushed to the hospital before further damage can spread.

"Yes…well…to be precise…" Fukiyose went on, only a slight frown indicating she didn't approve of Kamijou's language, "…You have suffered an open compound fracture of your upper femoral shaft and your ligaments have to be stitched back. We are going to have to put a pin in the marrow canal to hold the bone in position as it heals. On a positive note, that means you won't be in a cast or have to use a wheelchair that long."

She displayed about as much emotion as someone reading the schedule of the opening of the library as she broke the news. Kamijou could feel himself paling as he sagged back into the bed. In all of his past battles, this was one injury he never had before. His mouth was as dry as saw dust and a huge knot of anxiety formed in his belly. He swallowed hard, urging himself not throw up.

"How…" His voice wobbled and he winced, cursing himself for the weak sound. Kamijou coughed to clear throat and tried again. "How long will the surgery take?"

Some of the stringency eased out of Fukiyose's back at Kamijou's genuine distress. "About six hours, barring any complications."

"Just had to tack the last part on didn't you?" Kamijou muttered.

"I would be negligent if I didn't." Fukiyose met his eyes steadily.

"Fine," Kamijou frowned, "What else do I need to know?"

Several minutes later, the young man regretted opening his big fat mouth.

His brain was already draining fast with a bunch of medical jargon and details he felt sure he would have been better off not knowing. In the midst of Fukiyose's high-level, medical babble, Kamijou was able to pull out a couple of important things. First, he could be in the hospital for as long as two weeks because of the open compound fracture itself and this "intramedullary nailing" (the technical term Fukiyose used for his surgery) as well as the ligaments, which were supposed to be much easier to work on. Second, it could take months for him to fully heal and recover. A protracted cycle of therapy awaited him in the future.

"I don't know what Chief Motoyama will say on this. Such misfortune," He let out his famous cataphrase, earning another disapproving look from his former classmate. Kamijou just ignored it, wallowing in his own misery, until an uneasy thought crossed his mind. "Ah, you aren't my surgeon, are you?" He wasn't sure if he could even handle that; just the thought of Fukiyose's long and talented but tough fingers working on him sent him into a tailspin of unease and unwelcome desire.

"No, you idiot. Not even in my dreams," The immediate answer had him releasing a heavy breath in relief.

He celebrated rather too soon.

Fukiyose held up her chart with a scowl, "I'm going to be your attending physician after the surgery's done for your entire stay in the hospital, though so better behave, idiot Police Officer…"

"This day just keeps getting better and better," he groaned, wanting nothing more than to turn over and scream bloody murder into his scratchy pillow. When they had first whisked him into the ER, they had fitted him with some kind of contraption to keep his leg steady. It was a system of wires and pulleys, all designed to secure and suspend his leg in the air. It totally sucked for a policeman like him.

"I'm not any happier about this than you are, Kamijou," Fukiyose growled rigidly. "If only I hadn't let Higuchi-san talk me into switching ER rotations with him, then I would have never seen you at all. I can't believe it. From what I'm seeing, you're still the same idiot back from our high school days. I might need to calm again the monster in you with my health products…"

"Yeah, well, I don't want to see your now-megane face either!" Kamijou felt his fists clenched, "And I can't believe you still follow that stupid phony products crap and use them at your age and in a medicinal area, of all things!" The spiky haired young man raged, and in his nervousness, fear, and anger at himself for his wrong, inappropriate desires, anger at the situation, he was much more insulting than what was necessary.

Fukiyose's expression closed down, her eyes went blank, but not before something unidentifiable flashed through her brown orbs behind the glasses. Kamijou suddenly felt guilty. It wasn't the Iron Wall Girl's fault he was in this mess but wasn't the doctor's fault his schoolboy emotions, which he had buried deep inside his heart even years back, had come roaring back with a vengeance, even with his leg broken and painkillers dulling his senses? In his mixed up mental state, he tried to move, momentarily forgetting the traction and his jacked up leg and everything. Agony, hot and white, shot up his thigh.

"Ouch!" He cried out, throwing his head back. The veins in his neck bulged as the pain reverberated throughout his body. Even pain pills couldn't protect him from his own stupidity. _Not even being trained for counterterrorist activities could stop pain. _

Rushing to his side, Fukiyose threw the clipboard in her hand on a nearby tray and reached for Kamijou's blanket. The young man grabbed her fingers, preventing her from even yanking off the sheets.

"D-don't, Fukiyose," He gritted through his teeth, the burning fire in his thigh actually bringing a sheen of sweat to his brow.

"I have to see if you made the wound bleed again, you idiot," Fukiyose barked at him, trying user her old high school tactics to free her hand.

To her surprise, it was no use this time.

Fukiyose might be more agile that hadn't changed in ten years but Kamijou was stronger. Even in his weakened state, his police instincts prevailed as he easily held Forehead Deluxe's hand down. The muscular, athletic body he had built over the years fighting magicians and, this time, criminals in the streets and ports, was broader than the one he had sported in high school and his six-packed abs wasn't for show. In short, he wasn't the same lanky high school student that Fukiyose used to easily beat whenever she disciplines the Idiot Trio.

"No…" He was panting a little now, "They … they took my Naruto underwear when they shoved me into this stupid gown." He could feel the draft on his rump even now while he still sensed the grief in losing one of his personal favorite garments. Either way, it wasn't a pleasant sensation.

Fukiyose shot him an incredulous look, "You won't let me look at your wound because you're afraid I'll see your large package?" It was clear from her tone that she thought Kamijou was insane. Well, maybe he was, but he just couldn't let a former high school classmate and friend(?) see you in all his naked glory when they weren't even on good terms in the past and arguably, up until now. His manly pride was on the line.

"My dick or my huge ass…" He smiled wanly, lines of pain now etching themselves deeply into the corners of his mouth. "You have to go and beat me first in Russian roulette before I let you get that far."

_Or not._ Was the true thought of the young man as he remembered Toyama shooting a cat's head when they tried the game. Right now, he'd been in the megane Fukiyose's presence less than an hour and he already wanted to jump to her bones, fractured leg or no. _No. the universe was definitely playing a joke on me._ Kamijou berated himself for not listening closer to Himegami during all those high school days where she went on and on about "Seiri-chan." If he had, he would have known the one-time bane of her existence worked here and he could have asked Toyama to bring him to another hospital or to one of the police agency's closer medicinal units.

In the world outside of his scrambled thoughts, Fukiyose apparently didn't find his Russian roulette remark amusing. _Are his fellow policemen really like him? _Leaning in so close that Kamijou could almost count every sinfully long lash surrounding her brown, furious eyes, she snapped, "I'm a trained physician, Kamijou baka! I can assure you that you don't have a single thing there in your body that I haven't seen before."

While Kamijou tried to unravel that slightly confusing sentence coming from her mouth, his grip on Fukiyose's hand lessened. The female doctor took advantage of this lapse to pull her hand away and gently ease the blanket aside. As Kamijou had feared, completely useless hospital gown had ridden up and the bottom part of his groin was exposed. The cool air drifting around his hidden parts made him somewhat tremor but it didn't stop the surge of heat that crawled up his neck and onto his face.

He wanted to just go and die or plainly disappear. Currently feeling smaller in front of the shorter Fukiyose as he felt his skin reacting violently against the breeze, Kamijou had never felt more wretched or embarrassed in his life. He had a broken bone, a hole in his thigh, torn ligaments, and now, he was flashing his birdie at a young woman he hadn't seen for almost seven years since they graduated high school. A girl he used to imagine that he was torturing since in their younger selves, Fukiyose had made his life somewhat life hell in high school. Life was fucking grand at the moment when he always fantasized about tying her up and watching the Forehead Deluxe beg with all of her cuteness. He only hoped he could keep his mind out of the gutter, because all he needed was to suddenly start sporting a boner right in Fukiyose's face. _That would have been nice on girls like Misaka if she wasn't violent or Othinus if she was taller. _

Fukiyose either didn't see or was just plainly ignoring Kamijou's blushing meltdown. She somehow calmly and efficiently checked the bandages around the wound for signs of fresh blood although anyone with sharp eyes can tell her mouth seemed to drool as her hands were shaking, as if it was tempted to hold something sensitive. When she was satisfied that the injury hadn't started bleeding again, he casually tugged Kamijou's gown down while she said, "Good, you didn't cause any more damage, Kamijou. But I order you don't thrash around like that again. Otherwise, I'll have someone come strap you to the bed."

"You'd still do it, wouldn't you?" Kamijou murmured, trying to wash away the color now staining his whole body. He couldn't believe how nonchalantly Fukiyose covered up his penis. This really was the most horrible day ever, even worse than his times in chasing Yakuza gangs armed with Uzi submachine guns. _Damn that Toyama. Why do you have to bring me here?! _

"I would and I won't hesitate," Fukiyose acknowledged without even thinking twice, "Sometimes, the only thing idiots like you, Tsuchimikado, and Aogami understand is physical brute force."

"Dammit, didn't you have enough of calling me that in high school, Fukiyose?"

Shrugging, Fukiyose pushed up her glasses before she lifted the blanket over him once more. "Once an idiot, always an idiot."

"Well, once an obsessed health product fan, always an obsessed health product fan," Kamijou snarled, his normally deep voice was now a crackling mixture of embarrassment and pain.

Looking down his nose, Fukiyose was flustered as she puts her hands in her hips, "Who are you even calling obsessed?"

"Obviously you, Fukiyose," The words lacked any real teeth as Kamijou was feeling too horrible to continue the rude back and forth.

"Hmph…" There was that harrumph again. Fukiyose was a master at it, if one is to ask the spiky haired young man. He closed his eyes and waited for the next insult. When it didn't come, he cracked them open to find Fukiyose watching him intently, with an expression that he can't read. It actually creeped him out.

"What?" He grumbled.

"I can't…give you anything else for the pain," The young woman surprised him by saying, "Not when you are about to go into surgery."

"It's okay," He dismissed with a tired wave of his hand, "Pain and I are old friends by now. In fact, we always go side by side every day in my job with both the elite bureaucrats in the higher ups and the street gangs in the ports." _No! No! No! I don't need Fukiyose showing me any kindness, not right now at this situation._ He might just dissolve into a sobbing, pathetic mess and throw himself at the unsuspecting physican, who might end up slugging him in the face.

His statement seemed to give Fukiyose pause. "You get hurt often then, fighting criminals as well as your superiors in the National Police Agency?" If Kamijou wasn't hallucinating due to the drugs and the pain, the woman actually sounded curious. A spark of happiness he didn't want bloomed in his chest just appeared.

"It's the sacrifice of being a law enforcer," Kamijou admitted as he looked far ahead in the window, "Unlike Tsuchimikado, who set up an online buy-and-sell business with Maika at Academy City, and Aogami, who immediately thought and became a baker eventually, my job guarantees that half of my body is already buried six feet deep."

"By the way, what happened with Sister-san?" Fukiyose can't help but ask in pure curiosity.

"She had to go back to England for the moment as her status as nun-in-training was lifted by the English Church there and she would have to undergo the proper rites and investitures to become a full-pledged nun," Kamijou explained.

"And that Level Five Railgun?"

"It's simple. She doesn't actually know what kind of job I had taken although we still exchange messages regularly," Kamijou felt regretful not telling a certain Railgun about his job but it was due to circumstances he'd rather not share, "She should be graduation in college now, though…"

"I see…so this…" It was Fukiyose's turn to flap her hand as she indicated Kamijou's leg, "Was due to an armed encounter? Injuries like this usually occur from a fall or a hard, sudden impact with a fast moving object like a car or motorcycle."

Kamijou froze. He had been dreading this question, not specifically from the Iron Wall Girl but from anyone. With every fiber of his being, he so did not want to answer it but if Fukiyose was going to be his attending physician, he knew there is no escaping the interrogation of his former classmate.

"I fell in the port where we're about to conduct a raid." The reply was brief and terse. Kamijou hoped Fukiyose would leave it there.

He should have known better. Fukiyose was known to be a mother-figure when it comes to her classmates.

"That makes sense, from the angle of the protrusion and location of the break," The female doctor nodded. "Were you climbing inside a building, trying to peek every nook and cranny maybe? Fall off a ladder?"

"It was a … supposed to be a stealth approach..." _Please oh please oh please oh please be satisfied with that!_ Kamijou silently begged.

His unspoken pleas were in vain, too.

Fukiyose seemed somewhat impressed by his answer. "I guess even a clumsy oaf like you is good for something. Was it some contraband drugs or smuggled clothing items? Did you catch any Yakuza gang member? I didn't see anything on the news about it."

Kamijou couldn't even rouse himself to take offense at the "clumsy oaf" remark. "Yes…" All he gave was that one word, thinking Fukiyose would finally get the hint that he didn't freaking want to talk about it anymore. Apparently, Fukiyose didn't understand the man code that he shared with Toyama and his fellow police operatives.

"I see. So did he got hurt as well? Were they brought to our hospital with you?"

Kamijou gave up. "No, he wasn't brought here. I think you even don't treat criminals of his kind, whatever reason they have to do such illegal activity..."

That put some spit in Fukiyose's eyes. "I beg your pardon!" She took a step back, clearly affronted. "We do not discriminate against anyone at this hospital. Every human—regardless of race, social status, criminal records, sexual orientation, anything—is treated here!"

"Yeah, well, Tora-neko-chan isn't human, so I don't think your esteemed doctors will be giving him medical attention any time soon"

The words hung on the air for a few moments. Fukiyose was clearly dumbfounded. "Tora-neko-chan?" She repeated almost as if she couldn't believe the name that was rolling of her tongue.

Kamijou couldn't either. Hearing the arrogant, stern Fukiyose Seiri even utter "Tora-neko-chan" was a once in a lifetime, comedic jewel. _So cute! _He just wished he could properly appreciate it. But, no, his face was flustering again, thanks to his manly needs and of course there was the fact his leg was broken and needed emergency surgery and had just run into his old high school masturbation material after onee-sans.

"Yes, Tora-neko-chan. He's that stupid cat that lives in the port where we conducted our raid and she might be even worse than Sphynx. I named her after that stupid cat in Naruto that was owned by the wife of the Fire Daimyo and loves running away from her master." The words started pouring out in a rush. The sooner who told the story, the sooner he could get the whole ordeal (and Fukiyose's reaction to it) behind him. "That damn cat just shocked the wits out of me when I was busy searching the ten whole crates of smuggled AK-47s, meth, party drugs, ecstasy and even worse, pornographic materials complete with matching adult objects! They were all stacked up on top of the second floor of an unfinished building. Then when this cat, which I mistaken for a Yakuza, scared me, I slipped and ended up falling from the second floor and landing on a garbage can filled with rusting iron. Luckily or unluckily, Toyama came to my rescue."

He had to suck in a deep breath when he was finished. Suddenly, a strangled, gargling noise came from Fukiyose's direction. Kamijou's gaze jumped to her face. His expression gave nothing away and the angle of her head now caused the fluorescent lights to glare off her glasses, obscuring her brown eyes from view.

Kamijou though wasn't fooled.

"You're laughing at poor Kamijou-san's misfortune, aren't you?"

"I assure you…I have no idea…what you are talking about…" Fukiyose answered nonchalantly, but the interspersed sounds of amusement that kept escaping him betrayed the very words she was saying.

Groaning, Kamijou thrust his hands into his hair and pulled at the ends. "I hate my life now! If even a stone-faced woman with no sense of humor like you finds this funny, Toyama and the other guys at the National Police Agency headquarters are going to have a field day ribbing me about it. I'm never going to hear the end it. That damn cat. I'm going to run it over with our patrol car the next time I see it."

"Maybe this stone-faced woman should prescribe a turpentine enema before your surgery? Wouldn't want any accidents during the operation, would we?" Fukiyose's hand hovered threateningly over the clipboard that contained her chart, her face showing off a sadistic smile that promised lots of pain.

Growing pale, Kamijou lifted his hands in supplication. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, alright, Fukiyose-sama? Sheesh, you are just as uptight as ever. "

"And you are just as annoying, but that won't stop me from seeing to your care." Fukiyose, for the first time since she entered his place, smiled warmly, "How can I call myself a good doctor if I even can't take care of police officer like you—guys who would always sacrifice their lives to make sure Japan sleeps well at night…"

Anything else Fukiyose might have said would have to wait. Two nurses came in and informed them that it was time to escort Chief Inspector Kamijou Touma down to the Operating Room. Because his leg was in traction, they were just going to take him on the bed itself. Luckily, it had rollers.

Right as they were about to roll him away, Fukiyose actually put a hand on his shoulder and brushed it. "I will see you tonight when I make my rounds. Try not to get into trouble before then."

Kamijou mustered up a lopsided grin, the fear he had experienced when had first heard about the surgery now exploding into full-blown terror. "Yes, yes, I'll be a good boy, Fukiyose-sama. Can Toyama see me tonight as well?"

"It will be fine," Fukiyose tightened her right hand, and maybe he meant it to be a comforting squeeze. Kamijou didn't know whatsoever. He just nodded past the lump in his throat and then the nurses wheeled him away.


	2. Chapter 2

When he woke up some few hours later, Kamijou's head felt like it was stuffed to the brim with the Kevlar helmet his investigating team sometimes used when they hit the field. He struggled to remember where he was. There was a low drone of voices off in the distance and the slightly acrid scent of antiseptic burning in his nose. His body felt sluggish, heavy, especially his right leg, and he couldn't move it at all. He swallowed, and immediately regretted it as sharp, abrasive pain ran down his throat. Though his eyelids felt like they were weighted down by rocks, he managed to pry them open. An unfamiliar ceiling stared back at him. Frowning, he turned his head and saw the I.V. line running from his arm to the pump beside his bed. Like a camera reel running backward, all of the images from earlier in the day flooded his mind and he remembered everything.

To cut the story short, the surgery had been a success as his leg has been stitched back at least of its original position. He had come out of the anesthesia long enough for the surgeon to give him the good news. Afterward, the nurses wouldn't let him leave the recovery room until he drank some fluids and went to the bathroom. That just might have been more embarrassing than having Fukiyose Seiri see his long sausage, pissing into a bedpan with the two nurses smiling and chattering away the whole time. Luckily, he was still drowsy enough from the anesthesia and painkillers that he had passed out again soon after. They must have brought him to this room when he was asleep then. Actually, sleep sounded really good at that moment, even though he had had just woken up, and he let himself drift off again.

By the time the Forehead Deluxe made it to his room, Kamijou was awake again, cranky, sore and very hungry. Apparently, he had missed dinner while he was off counting sheep somewhere in his imaginary world. He had the bed adjusted to a sitting position and was glaring at the door, waiting.

"So, how are we feeling, Kamijou Touma?" Fukiyose asked routinely, flipping through Kamijou's chart as she walked to the foot of the bed. Her scrubs from earlier were gone, replaced by black jeans and a light green sleeveless blouse. The white coat was still there, however. She looked elegant and imposing as her slim and sexy figure was more evident under her clothes. Kamijou felt both better and worse at the same time just from seeing her megane face and free-flowing hair.

"Unless you happened to have just had someone cut you open and shove a long metal rod into your leg, then we aren't feeling anything," Kamijou bit out sarcastically, aggravated that he was even checking Fukiyose out. "I, however, did just have that done and I feel like warmed over shit."

Pushing up her glasses, Fukiyose felt like she was being violated and jotted something down on the chart. "Apparently, you are feeling pugnacious, childish, and strong enough to bellow like a bull without a common sense."

"Dammit, do you insult all your patients like that, Fukiyose?"

"Only the deserving ones," The response was said blandly and without inflection, "In your case, I needed to be much iron-fisted since you can be a madman when left alone…"

"I'll sue you for malpractice," Kamijou muttered darkly.

Fukiyose looked up from the chart and grinned rather cutely and sadistically at the same time, "You'll have to learn how to spell it first."

Kamijou wanted nothing more than to leap out of the bed and strangle that dark-haired, chocolate-eyed, model-like former classmate of his, "Argh! I can't believe you are treating poor Kamijou-san like this! I had to pee in a bedpan, Fukiyose. In a bedpan! In front of two hot, young women with busts that aren't as large as yours but still big enough to be bouncy!" He exploded, the initial crux of his frustration and foul mood spilling out. He couldn't very well yell at Fukiyose for turning into an even prettier, attractive woman than when Kamijou knew her before at their school.

Blinking before sighing, Fukiyose set the chart down and pulled out her stethoscope. "That's their job, Kamijou idiot. They see men excrete into bedpans all the time. It's no big deal. You shouldn't overreact with trivial stuff like that."

"Well, they don't see me! And don't say excrete, it doesn't sound so nice here."

Huffing, Fukiyose came around to Kamijou's side and made him shut up so she could listen to his heart and lungs with the stethoscope. Afterward, she picked up Kamijou's wrist to measure his pulse rate. Once that was all done, she scribbled some more notes on the chart.

"All your vitals are normal, which is good for an abominable man like you," She declared once she finished writing. "How is the leg feeling?"

"It still aches but the pain killers take the edge off," Kamijou answered honestly.

"I see. What about elsewhere? Any discomfort or pain anywhere other than the leg?"

"My throat kind of hurts. I'm not sure why though."

Fukiyose reached out, her soft and somewhat ticklish hands gently prodding and testing the area up and down Kamijou's neck. His fingers were smooth, soft, but very strong in frip. It was a little perplexing, and to be touched so intimately by those fingers of hers, it was inching close to arousal. "I don't feel anything, idiot," She pulled back with a shake of her head. "It's probably from the air tube you had down your throat during the operation. The irritation should disperse in a day. Any other problems?"

"Yeah," Kamijou glanced up, putting the somewhat touchy and vibrating sensations of Fukiyose's fingers on him out of his mind.

"And?" The question had a tone of annoyance.

"I'm hungry. Please, feed Kamijou-san," It was the whine of a petulant child similar to a certain silver-haired nun but Kamijou couldn't help it. He was freaking starving as the rumbling in his stomach momentarily erased his perverted thoughts and feelings.

"That's not an ailment, you idiot!" Fukiyose was tempted to slug his face with her fists.

"Tell that to my stomach! Bring your stethoscope back over here and listen to the horrible sounds it's making and then try saying it's not an ailment for someone who doesn't always have time to eat lunch due to work load," Kamijou leaned up and grabbed the medical device still hanging from the Iron Wall Girl's neck. He yanked, but with the stethoscope came the Forehead Deluxe crashing down. She stumbled, falling over Kamijou and landing on the police officer's chest with a profound thud. It jarred his leg a little and he hissed, but something immediately distracted him.

Fukiyose Seiri smelled wonderful.

A light, woodsy scent that made Kamijou think of the outdoors and snuggling up next to a crackling campfire. Of course, the partner in this little fantasy suddenly sported thick-framed glasses and beautiful chestnut eyes. But it wasn't just the aroma of her cologne that caught Kamijou's attention. There was something else there, something sweet, something tempting, something that made his stomach growl even louder.

"Wha-What are you doing, you moron?!" Fukiyose headbutted the young man before she placed her palms flat on the bed and pushed herself up so he was hovering over but no longer lying on top of Kamijou.

For his part, Kamijou didn't even flinch on the incoming forehead of the young woman and stuck his nose in Fukiyose's neck and inhaled. "I smell it," He growled low in his throat.

Fukiyose's arms and stomach tensed. "Smell what? Why are you sniffing me like you're a stray dog lost from the streets?!"

"Chocolate, damn you! You have chocolate! Here I am, on the brink of starvation, and you have chocolate!" Kamijou roared back and cyan eyes collided with brown eyes as he hurled the accusation, "How can you be so cruel, Fukiyose?! Or better yet, why are you eating chocolate?! This is the first time I see you eating that dessert!"

"W-what, don't be absurd, Kamijou-baka! Chocolate is for other people who don't have any kind of urgency with taking care of themselves and children who are naughty. I never eat that junk food! And you certainly aren't on the verge of starving so stop exaggerating," Fukiyose denied Kamijou's allegation snobbishly but he dropped his gaze, staring at Kamijou's throat instead.

Kamijou's own eyes fell and he was suddenly swiping his thumb over the corner of a stunned Fukiyose's lips. He pulled it away, holding it up triumphantly. "Doesn't eat chocolate, my ass! Then what's this?!" He pushed his thumb into Fukiyose's face, so close that the Iron Wall Girl's eyes were almost crossing trying look at it.

"I don't know! That might be just a speck of green coffee that even I drank this morning or something. Really, who goes around wiping other people's lips? You are a total barbarian, a pervert, and a total imbecile! Are police officers really act like you?!"

Flicking out his tongue, Kamijou licked the tiny dot away, no matter how disgusting it may sound. A hint of Fukiyose's sweet flavor came through, and Kamijou savored the taste, like it is his last.

"It is chocolate, Fukiyose!" He cried and before the nurse can even react, he began running his hands over Fukiyose's slim body, examining every nook and cranny, and rifling through every pocket he could find. His hunger edged out his sexual desire, which was actually good because if it had been any other time and he was touching Fukiyose like this, he certainly wouldn't be able to keep concealing his attraction as well as suppress down his perverted dreams.

"Quit groping me, you depraved idiot!" Fukiyose tried to bat his hands away, but she was careful not to use too much force as she is always mindful of Kamijou's injured leg and the I.V. in his arm.

Finally, Kamijou had pulled out a half-eaten Tobleron bar, carefully wrapped in thick paper and foil, from inside Fukiyose's right coat pocket. Crying in victory, he tore the paper off and shoved the whole thing in his mouth, unmindful of the stares he was receiving from doctors passing by. Filling up his stomach is much more important right now.

"I see your that you have descended even lower from a perverted lolicon to a depraved police officer desperate to steal anything from respected professionals like me," the brown-eyed doctor lifted herself off the bed with a defeated sigh. "Just don't tell anyone that I…sometimes secretly absorb a little piece of chocolate or two, alright. It could ruin my reputation in front of my fellow doctors and nurses. And most especially don't tell this to your two other idiotic friends…"

"Your reputation as what? An uptight, health-obsessed woman with a cold-blooded hard ass whenever she acts as if she's the sensei?" Kamijou mumbled, happily licking chocolate from his fingers.

"Quite accurate, though it sounds wrong coming from your mouth," Fukiyose straightened her tank top and smoothed down her long hair. "Anyway, I have other patients to see. I will check on you again tomorrow. Please don't wreck the hospital before then or else, we'll have to bill even the National Police Agency."

"I won't. I'm too weak to do anything but lie here pathetically anyway," Kamijou slumped down grumpily against the mountain of pillows. "That little piece of chocolate couldn't even qualify as a light snack, to be honest. I'll most likely be dead by morning. When my security unit of the NPA comes to claim my body, please tell them to seek revenge on that damn Tora-neko-chan or I will haunt them forever in their dreams."

Ignoring his own drama, Fukiyose picked up Kamijou's chart and headed for the door. She had his fingers on the handle when Kamijou spoke again, his words slurring a little, an indication that the morphine drip in his I.V. had kicked in again.

"Hey, Fukiyose. You know what?"

"What now?" She didn't turn around, just called back over her shoulder in annoyance.

"I didn't mean to say that you're ugly when I said "megane face." It's not. Actually, it's so pretty because it perfectly fits you," Kamijou honestly let out his opinion, "Always thought so. And, also, your lips just now were a lot softer than they look. Warm, even. I always figured they would be cold, like everything that comes out of your mouth whenever you love disciplining us. Guess I judged you too much before. Maybe if you can stop being so uptight and show your genuine traits, then I guess you could qualify as a good wife. Funny, huh?"

A heavy hesitation filled the air as Fukiyose let those words sink in in her mind. Then she let out a breath. "Go to sleep, Bakamijou. You won't remember any of this in the morning because of the drugs..."

"I'll remember. It's my duty now as a policeman," Kamijou Touma replied in an almost sing-song voice. "I'll remember Fukiyose-sama with her shining eyes like the color of the sweet Chocolate hills I visited once when my unit had a joint training exercise with the Philippine National Police and beautiful dark hair and soft, caramel-like lips. I'll remember…zzzzzzz"

"No you won't, idiot Kamijou," Fukiyose Seiri whispered as she left the room, flipping off the light and quietly shutting the door behind her.

* * *

"Aww shit, I forgot to visit Kami-cchi…"

Kinshiro Toyama sighed as he just finished making a report about a recent drug bust in Shizuoka where the presence of National Police Agency agents was asked.

"Well, I'll make it up to him, sometimes…"

* * *

Two individuals sit in a bench not far from where the hospital was standing.

"Neh, what are you doing here, Short Hair?"

"And just what are you doing here, Silver Sister?"

"I came back from my investiture rites in England. You?"

"Nothing much. I came to visit that idiot. I guess we should go together to where he is, right now."

"Then you know what his job is?"

"I had my own suspicions although he didn't tell me. But that doesn't mean I won't find out."

There were shots of electricity engulfing the two of them.

"And when I do find out, I just have to shock him in punishment…"


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't like she'd spent the last several years of her teenage times pining and she's not someone who's about to do just that due to their prides. When the occasional memory of a certain loud-mouthed, spiky-haired buffoon had surfaced, she'd only experienced a brief twinge around the heart no one but her best friend Himegami and perhaps, their former classmates in Tsuchimikado and Aogami, assumed she had.

Because in the first place, it hadn't been love.

What Fukiyose had felt back then had been something else and no one can say if it's beyond the feeling of mutual understanding. That out of control, breathless, stomach twisting feeling whenever _he's _around. But it had been…something. Something more than the irirritation of seeing him every day. A different desire that crystallized one spring night on a sandy beach, when two young people, one she had known since they were in elementary school in Academy City and one that was actually her very first best friend, had made love with only crashing waves, the gleaming moon, and her own stunned, pained, teary eyes as witness.

Therefore, it had been an utter, mind numbing, full body shock to pull back that curtain and see Kamijou Touma lying in that hospital bed. A routine, hectic day of dealing with broken bones, bleeding wounds, and the torn cartilages had faded, giving way to the intimidating, commanding presence that one would normally witness from a police officer just chasing criminals on a daily basis.

It was like being hit with 50 ccs of Pethidine. She'd gotten dizzy, even hot. Thinking and breathing were almost impossible in front of his presence. Only through the sheer discipline she had sharpened through her lifestyle and her own fierce and fiery mental determination had Fukiyose been able to hide her reaction. Because even with Kamijou's face pale and pain etching lines into his mouth and forehead, the raw animal magnetism that had captivated Fukiyose as a normal teenager, despite her denials and stern warnings to herself which earned her the title of the girls with walls of steel, was still there. No, it was even stronger than before.

The years had answered the promise that had been there in Kamijou's youth as it broadened his shoulders even more, honed and sculpted the chiseled lines of his face, the generous curve of his lips, the sleek muscles of his body resulting from working out and studying at the National Police Academy. He was gorgeous and mesmerizing and a hundred percent Alpha Dog, and when Fukiyose met wild, cgreenigh-blue eyes for the first time in a nearly seven years, her neglected and deprived libido shot right up, made its self quite known to her, and went right on into overdrive. She, Fukiyose Seiri, was still madly and secretly attracted to one Kamijou Touma.

Which, of course, both embarrassed and annoyed the hell out of her.

Not because they had that kind of a roller-coaster relationship in the past. No, despite what they have gone through, she still considers him one of her most precious classmates and that like a normal young woman, she had come to terms with the knowledge that he preferred hard bodies to soft ones long, long ago.

It was just…it was because it was Kamijou, of all people.

He was rough. He was perverted. He was noisy and vulgar and imbecilic at the same time, and every single emotion she felt flashed across her face like big, blinking, neon letters. For her, Kamijou wasn't someone you can call refined and he certainly wasn't cultured. Fukiyose doubted he even knew things like Pachelbel's Canon in D and London's Tower. Everything about him was just so idiotic, loud, and physical. Fukiyose's total opposite in every possible way, except for the physical part since she acted as the _de facto _moderator of the Delta Force. Yet it didn't stop the flood of desire from melting into every cell of her body.

She would blame it on the fact that she hadn't even experienced sex, as much as she hated to admit it but she knew that wasn't even it. While she somewhat enjoyed the idea, she was never as enthralled with it before as some. Had never experienced an orgasm "so awesome it'd make your ass itchy and would do anything to have a magic stick scratch it" as Aogami had once so crudely explained when they were actually in a one-year relationship that had a rough sailing and it didn't worked out in the end. It all boiled down to one simple thing: now, just as ten years ago, she wanted Kamijou Touma. And, she had the feeling the sex she had never been overly enamored with before would quite ruin her forever if she ever found herself under or over that strong, brawny, athletic body.

So she did what she was won't to do in such situations, covered up her rioting emotions with snark and blunt language. It had mixed results as Kamijou, who seemed to have experienced a lot of things in his own, easily rose to her provocations as opposed to his teenage self, where he would let Fukiyose's violent mood swings off the bat. _He must have a hard time with his superiors at the National Police Agency. _She'd been doing quite well, keeping her low-key wild hormones and unwelcome emotions in check, until the chocolate episode later that evening after Kamijou's surgery.

That…that tested her resolve and reputation as the Iron Wall Girl.

Having the object of her adolescent fantasies and erotic daydreams rub hands all over her slender body and her lips was just simply like a surprise waiting to unfold. Then to be told she had beautiful hair and sweet lips and…well, she'd actually had to go to the bathroom to hide the arousal she'd suddenly and fiercely experienced or else, she would be a disgrace to doctors everywhere.

To add to her miserable humiliation, she'd even dreamt of Kamijou's hands last night, only they hadn't stopped once they had found the Tobeleron bar but had kept going, mapping out her body and bringing her to the heights of sexual nirvana. The soiled, sticky state of her undergarments was a shameful testament to her hidden perverse and unwanted nocturnal activity, concealed by her tough facade. She was twenty-five, not fifteen, for damn's sake!

The ethical thing to do would be to remove herself from Kamijou's case. She was in a precarious position, attempting to provide treatment to someone she was so elementally attracted to. Fukiyose prided herself on her composure and objectivity, two things she definitely would not be able to maintain around the cyan-eyed law enforcer. Yes, she could have marched right up to the director's office and request someone else takes over Kamijou's care but her feet didn't budge.

With a sigh of self-disgust, something she wasn't used to emitting because of all the things Fukiyose believed in, she still believed most in her own perfection (no matter how often Himegami would try but fail to convince her otherwise), she pushed up her glasses and opened the door. Upon further reflection, she realized she should have knocked instead. It was common hospital etiquette for a doctor or nurse to knock on a patient's door if it was closed. She was just too flooded in the swamp of her own conflicted thoughts and emotions to perform this courtesy which was why she was treated to the sight of a very naked and very surprised Kamijou Touma standing on crutches in the middle of the room.

"The hell!?" Kamijou unmanly shrieked at her, "Close the door Fukiyose or someone else might see me!"

She complied quickly, leaning against the door for support, her suddenly rubbery knees barely able to keep her upright. In the ugly hospital gown, Kamijou had been handsome. Nude and his glory all shown, he was magnificent. All rugged and ripped and raw masculine power, with ocher skin and a light smattering of hair dusting his wide, muscular chest. Fukiyose couldn't help but stare, couldn't help but admire the sheer perfection of the tall and well-built figure standing before her.

She couldn't help but lust after it.

She dragged her eyes up and tangled with Kamijou's vivid, cyan gaze. The past mingled with the present as she took in the challenging light in those deep blue orbs. Even naked, Kamijou was defiant, just like he had always been with the magical world and right now, the world of the Yakuzas and his ongoing bouts with the elite bureaucrats. Fukiyose was caught, frozen in spot by the daring and combative look. A look that began to subtly change as Kamijou's eyes darkened with some other emotion. Something Fukiyose couldn't quite explain but it seemed hot and wild and a little dangerous, and once again she felt drugged just looking at the young spiky haired man.

Mouth now dry and lenses fogging, she pulled her eyes away and looked down, freeing herself from the bizarre atmosphere that had sprung up between them. She purposefully avoided looking there at the center of Kamijou's body. She had gotten a glimpse of that particular part on the very day she had met him and, even in tranquility, it was just as impressive as the rest of him. Instead, she looked at the bandage on Kamijou's leg, crudely shaped and thick against his white flesh, and it roused her enough to finally remember who she was and what she was there for.

"What do you think you are doing?" She scowled, proud that she managed to keep her voice composed and calm.

"I was giving my big stick some cool and fresh air," Kamijou said after another moment of staring at Fukiyose. He then hobbled back to his bed with a slight grimace of pain, "What do you think I was doing? I was taking a piss."

"You take your clothes off to urinate?" Fukiyose blinked at him, momentarily diverted.

"Seriously urinate, excrete, can't you speak like normal Japanese, Fukiyose?" Easing down onto his bed, Kamijou heaved sigh of relief and pulled the sheet up to his waist.

That pricked her tough pride. Pushing away from the door, Fukiyose moved over to the young man side with a frown. "I do speak normally, thank you very much. For someone who's expected to perform on a very important agency, you're the one who talks like an uneducated hoodlum."

She didn't want to insult Kamijou. No, what she really wanted to do is pull back that sheet and explore the hard angles of that big, brawny body, which is precisely why Fukiyose did insult him.

"And you didn't answer my question, Kamijou-baka! Why are you staggering around naked? Where is your gown? What happened to your little modesty from the other day?"

There was a spark of color painting Kamijou's cheeks, the pink an interesting contrast to his spiked of raven hair. The heavy air from before had dissipated so rapidly that Fukiyose could almost believe she imagined the whole thing.

"Well, you and everyone else in this damn hospital have seen everything already, right?! And, I accidentally ripped the gown because of my misfortune," Kamijou mumbled the last sentence so softly that Fukiyose had to lean forward to hear.

"You did what?"

The rosy shade intensified, "I—I ripped it!" Kamijou snapped, a bit more forcefully. "I woke up and the stupid thing was tangled and when I tried to fix it, it just tore!"

He reached under his pillow and pulled out the sad remains of the garment, holding it up almost guiltily for Fukiyose's inspection

An image of Kamijou fighting with the hospital gown burst into Fukiyose's wild mind and, just like it had when the policeman had told her about the cat who caused his unfortunate accident, she was overcome with an almost hysterical urge to laugh.

An unusual sensation for him to say the least.

"Aaaah, you're smiling, Fukiyose!" The accusation rang loudly through the small room.

Smoothing non-existence wrinkles on her white coat, Fukiyose fixed her expression. "Nonsense, idiot! I rarely—or never—smile!" A slight exaggeration, but it was true that smiles, much less genuine ones, were very rare on her face.

"Oh please…" Kamijou dropped the ruined gown over the side of his bed and snorted rather mockingly, "Himegami still talks to Aogami, you know. I never really paid much attention when they started yacking so much, which is why I didn't know you were a doctor, but I have heard enough from your one-year trial boyfriend-girlfriend thing with Aogami to know you've apparently learned how live life a little bit easier and to have a little bit of fun at least. Good to know you weren't a total robot."

It was Fukiyose's turn to flush, realizing that she had been the topic discussion amongst her three former classmates. It felt like her privacy had been invaded and he was quite perturbed. He would make sure to beat Aogami quite thoroughly later even though they have, at the very least, separated quite peacefully. There was also a curious, leaden sensation weighing heavily in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with Aogami gossiping about her but had instead materialized when she heard Himegami's name roll so easily off Kamijou's tongue. Maybe it hadn't been just teenage infatuation after all, if her emotions could still be triggered with just an off-hand comment from Kamijou.

"You're still going out with Himegami-chan, then? You two could have been a perfect couple material," She didn't know who was more shocked by the sudden question that tumbled involuntarily from her lips, Kamijou or herself.

Eyes rounding like saucers, Kamijou shifted awkwardly in the bed, "You…ah…you actually knew about us?"

Fukiyose could only nodded helplessly, extremely uncomfortable as well regarding the direction she had just sent the conversation, inwardly cursing herself for bringing it up and cursing her own talkative mouth for dropping Kamijou back in his lap at this point in his life. Reminding her of things she could had long forgotten, stirring desires that were better left dormant, especially if they could never be fulfilled. She didn't need the complications, and that's what Kamijou was—a one huge, pain-in-the-ass complication that even she has yet to unlock.

Kamijou's stiff expression relaxed but what replaced it was a bitter, self-mocking smile that didn't suit really him at all, "I guess we were pretty obvious back then, huh? Or, at least, I was…" He turned to look out the lone window in the room, giving Fukiyose a perfect view of his profile which suddenly looked a little sad, a little lonely, but still so striking.

"She was actually my first love, you know?" He gave a little chuckle that somehow didn't sound very amused at all, "Sheesh, I was so innocent about love back then and so naïve. I thought love trumped everything, only I didn't realize that was only true if both parties were actually strong enough to fight for their love. Believing that love alone can solve the puzzling dilemma in Misaka and Index being close to me as well as that time can do a number on a guy's ego…and why the hell am I even telling you about this?"

He laughed again and shook his head. Fukiyose's hand was reaching out, touching the smooth, warm, bare skin of Kamijou's shoulder before her brain registered her body's real intent. She wasn't really the consoling type and yet, it was the only the fourth time she had felt compelled to offer comfort to the young man lying before her. Kamijou was definitely messing up her pace, in more ways than one.

Kamijou's gaze flashed to hers, something indiscernible passing through the azurite depths, and then he lowered his head, shielding his eyes and freeing Fukiyose from his piercing stare.

"To answer your question, no we aren't in a romantic relationship, not anymore, not since high school. I figured Tsuchimikado would have told you about Himegami and the Aogami, about the reason that dickhead, Kansai-speaking bluenette came back to Japan after trying out bakery in France for at least ten months after Index and Misaka nearly killed me when they learned about us and Hime-chan."

There was a vague memory of the Blonde Backstabber saying something about Misaka and Index causing a scene at the place where Himegami worked, a maid cafe or something. Aogami, meanwhile, had come later on and almost caused a massive decrease of female workers at the same place. Honestly, Fukiyose agreed with Kamijou on one point: Tsuchimikado talked too much he had learned to tune their other classmate out over the years.

"But you still hang out and speak with Himegami-san, on a friendly basis?" Fukiyose asked.

Kamijou's smile was more natural, gentler, even if it was still tinged with bitterness, "Well, before all that other crap got in the way, she was one of my closest friends. I didn't want to lose that just because a lot of things got in the way that caused us to separate on a mutual and peaceful basis."

"That's actually…quite mature coming from you."

"You don't have to sound so impressed, Fukiyose…" Kamijou made a grumpy face.

"No, it's great to hear it," She couldn't believe she was having this discussion, couldn't believe she had completely disregarded the reason for her visit to the room. Hearing that those who shouldn't be there weren't involved anymore made her feel at ease, almost giddy, and her fingers that were still resting on Kamijou's shoulder unconsciously curled into the sleek muscle there.

A quick flit of his eyes to where they were touching was Kamijou's only indication that he was actually aware of the contact. He tilted his head, glancing up at Fukiyose carefully. "Actually, I think you are the one who's great to the point that you're a martyr. Despite outright hating our guts, you've been with Aogami for at least a year, a pretty awesome feat for anyone who don't like obnoxious guys."

The pleasant feelings disappeared instantly. Fukiyose recoiled violently at Kamijou's words, jerking his hand away and even taking a step back, "We're not together, idiot! What gave you such an absurd, nonsensical idea?!"

Kamijou lifted his hands in a conciliatory manner. "Whoa, don't get your stethoscope in a knot. It was pretty much an obvious conclusion since Aogami is always 'Seiri-chan this and Seiri-chan that' every time I see him with Himegami. He even bugs me when I'm outside the field, doing investigative works with Toyama. I just assumed—."

"Well, don't tax your brain thinking on things you know nothing about," Fukiyose hissed as she cut him off, "Aogami is like…a bad rash I can't get rid off even back in high school but despite the so-called trial, there really has never been anything remotely romantic between the two of us and it wouldn't work as he keeps peeking on other girls when I'm in his side. Just the thought of it is revolting in the extreme."

Putting aside the chart she had been holding all this time, Fukiyose snapped on a pair of gloves, continuing abruptly, "Anyway, enough of this! I'm here to look at how your wound is healing not talk about this stupid nonsense!"

She didn't know why she was so angry at Kamijou's misconceptions. Because Aogami, despite his shortcomings, could still count as her first "boyfriend", the one who had seen her through the days of self-hatred when she came to understand she was never actually happy with how their relationship run. ("This just proves you really are human after all, Seiri-chan and it doesn't matter who you love as long as you love someone."). That might be part of it, but not all. Rather, it was most likely because she didn't want Kamijou thinking she was involved with anyone else these days which was exceptionally stupid. Even if, and that was a very big if, Kamijou was still interested in women, there was no guarantee he would even be remotely attracted to the Forehead Deluxe.

Besides, did Fukiyose really desire some kind of relationship with the lanky guy? He couldn't even follow orders in the hospital, even when they were for his own good! Just yesterday, Fukiyose actually had to confiscate a pack of ten bowls of chicken ramen that Toyama had actually tried to sneak into his room. There had been much whining and pouting and name calling ("Dr. Forehead" was one of the less offensive insults). It had been childish and irritating and, yes, entertaining though she kept that thought to herself.

"You brought it up," Kamijou muttered, bringing Fukiyose's attention back to the here and now.

She glanced at the policeman's face and discovered Kamijou's expression was thoughtful, considering, and she had no idea why. So, she tried to ignore it. She was finishing up rebandaging the wound, happy with how remarkably well the recovery was progressing, when Kamijou decided to speak again.

"But, you still want give love a second chance, right?" The inquiry jolted her, shook her in her heart, causing her fingers to involuntarily pull too hard on the edge of the wrapping, eliciting a sharp hiss of discomfort from her patient.

Immediately gentling her touch, she quickly and efficiently finished her task. "I do not believe that is any of your business, Kamijou!" Her answer was curt, dismissive, contradicting the sudden beating of his heart. He lifted her right heel, began to move away, but all of the sudden, Kamijou lashed out a hand, grabbing Fukiyose's wrist. Even through the latex, those fingers were hot, burning, and scorching.

"What if I want to make it my business, _Seiri-chan_?" The deep, gravelly question was serious, demanding, different in tone than anything she had heard from Kamijou before, and it punched straight into her gut.

Breathing around the sudden constriction in her lungs, Fukiyose tugged her arm but it didn't move as Kamijou's grip an unbreakable manacle that even she could not escape, "I don't know what you are talking about!" She stated, infusing all the rigor and hauteur she could into her voice, camouflaging the confusion, the jubilation, the unexpected nervousness clamoring inside her.

She didn't even notice the young man calling her by her first name.

Kamijou's smile was all-knowing, teasing and most of all, devastating, "You are many things, Fukiyose," He chuckled, "You are an arrogant, rude, sarcastic, haughty, drop-dead-gorgeous," His eyes flickered to Fukiyose's, looking for a reaction to compliment, apparently satisfied with what he found there because his smile widened, "…but you certainly are not stupid."

"No, that's your purview!" The verbal slight was automatic, instinctual but her own typically high pitched voice sounded thin, reedy, and breathless.

"Ouch, dammit, I would yell at you again for calling me an idiot, in that snobbish, superior way of yours, if I didn't think it might be kind of true. Because, what else could explain this fucked-up, strange, insane attraction to you that I've been fighting for the last three days. No, even before then, even back when we were still classmates!"

He spoke remorsefully but Kamijou's gaze was hot and dark as it rested on Fukiyose's face.

A thrum of excitement pulsed down Fukiyose's spine, even as she scolded herself that this wasn't the time or place or the man who should be making her feel this way.

"You are being ludicrous! You don't even like me and the feeling's vice-versa! Just the other day you called me stuck-up, uptight, health-obsessed, cold-blooded ass and a stone-faced woman!" She used to believe the things she was spouting, that Kamijou hated her, had believed them all through high school, but now, she wasn't even so sure. Not with Kamijou's eyes gleaming with heated interest, not with his thumb currently rubbing soft, caressing circles on the wrist he still held captive, not with the tactile awareness humming between them.

"Foreplay…" Kamijou murmured huskily, bringing his other hand up to divest Fukiyose's trapped limb of the rubber glove covering it. And Fukiyose just…let him, the word "foreplay" ringing into her ears, conjuring up images that left her restless and edgy and nothing like the sensible, capable, professional doctor she was supposed to be.

Turning Fukiyose's hand over, Kamijou pressed his thumb into the smooth, pale palm and continued. "All that sniping and verbal back and forth is just a type of foreplay, don't you think? We're actually a match made in heaven…"

Well, actually Fukiyose was having difficulties processing all of these because Kamijou was scraping a thumbnail across the sensitive flesh of her palm now. "It fits us, too, since we are both so competitive even if you're the smarter one. Oh, and for the record, I do like you. A little too much, in fact. I always have. You and those glasses of yours starred in some of hottest wet dreams I had as a kid, before all the stuff with Himegami happened."

She was going to embarrass herself if this went on much longer. "Your mouth is too lewd," Fukiyose tried to sound cool, authoritative, disinterested. Unlickily for her, she failed on all accounts.

Expression turning wicked, Kamijou lifted Fukiyose's hand to his lips. "I would be happy to demonstrate just how racy my mouth really is." He followed the sensual threat by flicking out his tongue, drawing it along one of Fukiyose's long, slender fingers, and then sucking the tip between his teeth. It was scorching and wet and a very good thing she was leaning against Kamijou's hospital bed because her knees buckled.

Then Kamijou completely ruined the mood by scrunching his face in disgust as he stuck out his tongue, "Ewww, I was hoping for some chocolate again, or something else sweet, but all I taste is rubber."

"What do you expect, moron?!" Fukiyose pulled away her arm and Kamijou let him go this time. "Who just sticks someone else's finger in his mouth?" She grabbed her discarded glove, walking on unsteady legs over to the sink, removing the other glove so she could wash her hands.

"Oh, you would rather I stick something else in my mouth instead?" Kamijou called to him over the gushing faucet. Water spurted up into her face, splashing her lenses as her hands slipped.

Coughing, she took her glasses off and turned around, glaring at the outline lying across the room, "I knew you were perverted back then but I don't remember you being this lewd before. You now sound like Tsuchimikado!" Fukiyose dried her hands and lifted the edge of her coat to wipe the water off her glasses.

"First, don't ever compare me to that blonde bastard again," Kamijou growled. Though Fukiyose couldn't see his face, disgruntlement rode his voice. "Second, I've been a police for so long. I'm around guys all day that are rough and real, and yeah, pretty raunchy that it rubbed off me."

"Hmph, you were more reserved when you came into the ER on Monday."

"I had a freaking bone sticking out through my leg! I wasn't exactly in my best condition."

Sliding her glasses back on, Fukiyose lifted one eyebrow. "Making crude sexual comments and sucking a female doctor's finger is your best condition?" Though it was hard to believe, she was enjoying their bizarre, flirting banter. She, who had never flirted in her whole life.

"Well, actually, I can get much better than that," Kamijou confessed, and Fukiyose had to suppress a shiver at the implicit carnal promise, "I'm still not obviously healthy though. I know it's going to take months before I get back to normal, and weeks before I get off damn these crutches, but now I've got a new pain bothering me, too."

Immediately concerned, the doctor in her coming to the fore, she hurried back over to Kamijou's side. "Where does it hurt? How long have you been experiencing the discomfort?"

Kamijou snagged her hand again and forced it down his body, down to where the sheet was tenting spectacularly below his waist. "This is where it hurts, Fukiyose, and it's been like this ever since I patted you down for that Tobleron bar."

"You are sickening, Kamijou Touma," Fukiyose accused, but she didn't sound like she actually found it disgusting. She didn't try to remove his hand either.

Of course, Kamijou noticed it. And he took it further, rubbing their joined hands over his hard, swollen package hidden by the white cloth. Fukiyose was enthralled by the bumps and angles and heat beneath her fingers.

"Hey, Fukiyose," Kamijou's raspy, hungry voice drew Fukiyose's gaze back to his face, "I know you still view me as an idiot but trust me, even I know things when I see or feel it and now, let me tell you your biggest secret but I'll tell you mine first."

He then scooted closer to Fukiyose's ear and whispered rather seductively.

"I want everything of you with all of my hypothalamus. And you know what? I know you want me, too."

"You…there's—there's no such thing, Kamijou!" She was still clinging to her pride, still fighting the unruly needs and desires of her body.

"There is," Kamijou retorted, pressing their hands hard on her large and sweaty chest, groaning when he did, sending an answering throb to Fukiyose's own arousal that was straining against her slacks. "I saw the way you looked at me when you came in, those sexy brown eyes of yours eating me up. It was all I could do to hold back a boner right then."

"Tsk! I don't think—"

A second hand shot out, wound around her dark green tank top, and jerked her head down before she even had time to blink. "Just shut up…" Kamijou grunted and quickly, he kissed her.

The kiss was a revelation.

Fukiyose's smitten lovers and crushes had all been men like him but they were cultured and refined. Doctors, lawyers, classical musicians. Kisses had been perfunctory, timid, and most of all, boring.

Kamijou was anything but all of that.

He took Fukiyose's mouth in a hard, wet, toe-curling kiss. Lips moving over hers in smoldering passion, Kamijou invaded her mouth, drove his tongue deep, licked and probed and sucked until Fukiyose was panting and clutching his arms for support.

When the kiss ended, his lips felt wet, bruised, swollen. Every nerve in his body tingled. Fire burned low in his stomach, and his groin demanded satisfaction.

"The next time we do that, your glasses are coming off, Fukiyose!" The declaration was rough and uneven as Kamijou's face flushed and breath coming in harsh pants, showing he was just as affected by the kiss.

"How do you know there is going to be a next time?" The bluffing question might have more teeth if Fukiyose wasn't more or less draped over Kamijou's chest, fingers wrapped around bulging biceps.

Letting go of the green cloth, Kamijou reached up and threaded his fingers through Fukiyose's hair. "Oh, there's going to be a next time, _babe_. There's going to be plenty of next times and even more after that and a hundred times more after my work at the National Police Agency."

He nibbled on Fukiyose's lips, lapped at the corners while his hand that had been holding Fukiyose's down moved, went to the back leaning over her, slid under the white coat and began exploring. Fukiyose trembled at the feel of that big, strong hand sweeping over him.

"This is improper!" She gasped against Kamijou's lips, "We are in a hospital room! A nurse or orderly could walk in at any minute! Besides, this can count as a sexual assault!"

"That just makes it more exciting," Kamijou kissed her again, hand smoothing down her back, over her hip, to the muscular curve of her ass. "Hey, Fukiyose, what do you want? Seme or uke?" Kamijou rasped as they broke apart.

Fukiyose felt her face heat up at the blunt question, "That's…that, it depends." She answered, eyes closing, mortified beyond belief.

Chuckling, Kamijou gave her a quick, hard kiss. "Yeah, that seems about right. But Fukiyose…" his fingers slipped between the crack of Fukiyose's ass, pressing inward, searing her through the cloth of her pants, "I want to fuck you the first time. Shove myself hard and deep inside you. Can I?"

Trembling, Fukiyose tried to remind herself of all the reasons this was a bad idea. Other than the fact that they were classmates in high school for three straight years, they had nothing much in common. Kamijou's loud brashness would surely get on her nerves if they were together more than five minutes. They were in the hospital, she a doctor and Kamijou her patient. Yet none of those reasons stopped her body from softening, the tension bleeding out of her muscles.

Feeling her surrender to him, Kamijou's smile turned dark, possessive, and manipulative. His hands moved from Fukiyose's butt to the front of her shirt, making quick work of the buttons there, untucking it from his pants. Pushing the sides open wide, Kamijou placed his hands on the bare shoulders in front of him. Fukiyose swallowed a moan at the rough, calloused fingers sliding over her. They were hot, tempting, and arousing. Removing away the Identification Card now hanging messily from her neck, Kamijou massaged her soft and warm chest, played with her nipples, teased and tortured her until every rational thought that was left had fled from her brain.

By now, Kamijou's cock was fully erect now, throbbing and hurting. Unconsciously, Fukiyose's hips pressed hard against the side of the bed, seeking relief. Kamijou must have noted the movement because he growled and jerked his hands down, tearing at the fastening of Fukiyose's pants. When he succeeded, he pushed them down violently.

"Uhm...for someone who have bland taste, you sure have been using branded items these days…" Kamijou's voice was strangled with confusion.

The haze of lust surrounding the two of them lifted enough for Fukiyose to trail her eyes downward. Black, Calvin Klein underwear glowed merrily back at her. Face burning in embarrassment, she looked away and mumbled, "They were prescribed in my health advice tips…"

"Your health item is black underwear?" Kamijou repeated slowly as if he was having a hard time processing what he had just heard.

"In terms of keeping your body shape, yes…" Fukiyose answered stiffly, brown eyes flashing, daring Kamijou to say anything else.

"No, it's actually sexy and stimulating," The policeman smoothly said, "Especially with this pushing against the fabric." He palmed Fukiyose's arousal, causing the doctor to exhale with a loud whimper.

Spurred on by the needy sound, he hooked his fingers in the elastic band and pulled the boxers down, freeing Fukiyose's straining shaft. The cool hospital air kissed her smoldering flesh, and she shivered again, a shiver that turned into a full body quake when Kamijou wrapped his fingers fully around the soft, sweaty, bare shoulders of her and he violently puller her down.

"Stop it, Kamijou!" She panted, fighting the urge to close her eyes and fully give herself up to the luscious, liquid sensation of Kamijou's cock on her. "I can't do this!"

Thumbing the slit, Kamijou then teased and caressed the wide, flared heads of her breasts, provoking a low moan from her unwilling lips.

"You can do this, Fukiyose! You're the Iron Wall Girl," Her tormentor countered, drifting lower to the warm sides of the two watermelons, massaging and rubbing the vulnerable flesh until Fukiyose was biting her lip to keep the lusty sounds from pouring out uncharacteristically of her mouth.

This was insane, a folly of epic proportions, most likely the biggest mistake of her life, and she never made mistakes, but when Kamijou threw back his sheet, exposing his glorious, sun-kissed figure to Fukiyose's eyes again, exposing his own hot rod that was long and thick and ruddy with desire, the last vestiges of resistance that had characterized her whole character rusted and melted away. She finally understood the belly-burning passion Aogami had described before. Her very bones throbbed with need. She wanted to spread Kamijou's legs, thrust herself over and over into that big, muscular body, and she also longed to be filled, to have the other's flesh pierce and plunder her to the fullest. It was ludicrous, unwise, totally irresponsible, and yet absolutely magnificent.

Like a woman travelling to La-la Land, she followed Kamijou's instructions to pull her brown pumps and dark jeans off, allowed herself to be guided onto the bed, on the opposite side of Kamijou's injury so that she was lying on the good leg, her own knee slipping between Kamijou's thighs, brushing against hard, burning male flesh. Didn't protest when her glasses were pushed up, when her lips were seized again, ravished, and she returned the kiss, stroking her tongue over Kamijou's, moving his lips with an almost wanton abandon.

Kamijou growled into his mouth and the kiss grew hotter, wetter, and desperate. There was a rattling sound. Fukiyose reluctantly broke away, squinted to see what was causing the noise. She found Kamijou's hand fumbling at the tray beside his bed, grabbing the ointment Fukiyose had used on his leg before bandaging it, and she was an intelligent woman.

She understood why Kamijou was reaching for the tube. Her heart thudded maniacally in her chest.

_Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to make love in a hospital bed, with her wounded patient, Kamijou Touma?_ As slick fingers trailed over her bottom, to the cleft of her ass, slid between, rubbing and probing, Fukiyose knew that was a yes. She was indeed going allow it to happen.

She was going to have sex with Kamijou, right there, right then.

Because it had been been itching her to so do. Her body protested the digits pushing into her, widening her, twisting and preparing her for what was to come. She moaned, the sound part pain, part pleasure. Kamijou swallowed the sound, swallowed his moist, gasping breaths, giving her heat and wonder in return.

After what seemed like a lifetime of Kamijou's fingers breaching and exploring her, echoing the thrusting, probing tongue in her mouth, the fullness inside her that was driving her crazy (yet wasn't enough) abruptly disappeared.

"Hnnn…" The low moan was one of disappointment, mourning the empty feeling now welling up inside her.

Easing back just enough so that their lips barely touched, Kamijou whispered, "You're going to have to ride me, Fukiyose. I can't move my leg, remember?"

Even though she had already crossed the line, lying there mostly naked and aroused in her patient's bed, only her bare shoulders, sweaty tank top and the fidgety hands that were busy holding on to the man, Fukiyose couldn't be so horny, couldn't take up such a mortifying position, one she had previously never attempted since she didn't even do it with Aogami. She shook his head vehemently.

Dragging his mouth over Fukiyose's jaw, to his ear, Kamijou nibbled the sensitive lobe, "Please, doctor, isn't it your job to ease my suffering? I'm in an awful lot of pain here, and you are the only one who can fix it."

Sh shuddered at the hot, seductive voice murmuring in her ear, drifting over her skin, seeping into her blood. Just like a puppet, Fukiyose allowed Kamijou to slide him over, lift him up, settle him above stiff, angry flesh that demanded attention. Mindful of Kamijou's injury, she drew his knees up, high on the trim waist beneath him.

"Seiri, you look so beautiful, so perfect like that," Kamijou grunted.

Fukiyose didn't feel beautiful but rather, she felt embarrassed all the way to the tip of her toes.

She could feel the heat steaming off her face, thought she was probably as red as a certain Shotacon esper's hair, and then she wasn't thinking at all. Kamijou shoved down on his hips while thrusting up, impaling Fukiyose on his large banana. It was big and broad, pushing Fukiyose to her limits, stretching her impossibly wide. She inhaled noisily, deeply, struggling to accept the burning pain, the intruder wedging itself inside her. At last, the head sank all the way in, allowing her to glide all the way down with a groan, taking Kamijou's cock in right up to the base, feeling the wiry, curling hair there tickle her ass.

She stayed that way for several moments, giving her body time to adjust, but soon Kamijou grew inpatient. Digging his fingers into Fukiyose's hips, he stared up with blazing, feral eyes, the cyan orbs glinting darkly. "Ride me, Fukiyose," he demanded, the words harsh, rough, and electrifying, "We don't have that much time."

Unable to stop himself, Fukiyose responded to the erotic command, putting her hands on Kamijou's abdomen, lifting herself up, sliding back down. Heavens help her, it was so incredible! The slow plunge in and the agonizingly, unhurried retreat out of Kamijou's rigid flesh was surely driving her to the peak. For several minutes, Fukiyose kept up the lazy, languorous movement, reveling in the hardness filling her, but soon it wasn't enough.

His fear of hurting Kamijou stilted her movements, keeping her from rocking down as hard and fast as she wanted. Frustration sweeping through her, she pulled her gaze from Kagami's, blurry chocolate eyes looking for something, anything to aid her. She spotted the hazy outline of the rail on the side of the bed, and her vaunted intelligence kicked in. Lowering herself until her chest touched Kamijou's, the deepening angle jerking a moan of ecstasy from both of them, her long arms reached over the edges of the bed, grabbed the rails and pulled them up, locking them into place.

Kamijou looked at her in confusion, until Fukiyose wrapped her hands around the rails, leveraging himself up, putting the weight on his arms and not on Fukiyose's body. With her fingers firmly curled around the metal bars, she sank back down, slowly at first, making sure her butt and legs never came in contact with Kamijou's injured appendage. It wasn't long, though, before she was able to settle into a fast, steady rhythm. She was still embarrassed, still ashamed of herself for doing this in her patient's hospital bed, but she felt so full, so hot, so amazing, that she couldn't care about anything else.

"That's it…that's it…" Kamijou praised him hoarsely, "It's how I wanted it to be. You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, do you? With your face blushing and eyes smoldering like brown fire."

The compliment, raw and fervent, made her a little crazy and a little wild. No one had ever talked to her like before and the spiky haired policeman certainly didn't do something like that before. Her movements changed, intensified and she rode Kamijou swift and hard, gasping and crying each time the magical stick inside her rammed into her clitoris, the hidden source of pleasure twitching deep inside her. The bed creaked and rocked. Even with her sight blurred, Fukiyose could make out the flush on Kamijou's face, the excited, lusty, needy look in his eyes.

All of it due to the Iron Wall Girl, due to her body and her actions and just...her.

It was intoxicating, thrilling, knowing she was making the sexy policeman look like that, feel like that. She rotated her hips almost uncontrollably, almost savagely, wanting Kamijou's heat pounding up into her, wanting to keep that erotic expression on the raven's face as long as possible.

"Fuck, it's been too long, I'm not going to last," She was warned in a deep, snarling voice.

She felt ecstatic that she had such an effect on her bed partner, and she felt a bit sad that it was going to come to an end. Kamijou took hold of Fukiyose's masses of womanhood, pumping and tugging on it, the warm, soft touch sending her into a frenzy.

Without warning, her head was hauled down, and she was being kissed within an inch of her life, the lips on his both rough and gentle, lingering and filled with affection.

They were both breathing heavily after it was over. Their eyes clashed and Fukiyose fought down the urge to avert his.

"That was the most awesome sex I ever had," Kamijou wheezed, caressing the he he had just strangled. "How about you?"

Pulling her glasses off to her head, Fukiyose set them back on his nose and harrumphed, crossing her arms as if she wasn't mostly naked, covered in both Kamijou's cum. "It was alright, I guess..."

Cyan eyes narrowing, Kamijou gave her a hot, challenging look. "Just alright? I guess I will have to try harder next time."

She didn't know if she could survive if Kamijou made good on that threat. Fukiyose already felt boneless, languid, more satisfied than he could ever remember being. If Kamijoui tried any harder, she might get addicted, bespelled by the big lug.

Refusing to take his bait, Fukiyose eased off him, standing on legs that were far from steady. She grabbed her lab coat, pants and underwear, wobbling into the bathroom to clean up. The person in mirror as she washed her hands was a stranger. The sparkling, slumberous eyes behind her spectacles, so soft and content and happy couldn't belong to her. Neither could the glowing cheeks and small, satisfied smile. She stared back at the woman with the green tank top that was directly looking back from the other side of the mirror and wondered if everything has been a dream.

Feeling shaky, she wet some paper towels and headed back to Kamijou. With brisk, efficient hands, she cleaned the evidence of their sexual activity off Kamijou's stomach. The young man just watched her silently, amusement brightening his features.

"Thank you, mommy Seiri," Kamijou said when she was done, eyes dancing with mirth.

Scowling, Fukiyose walked over to the hazardous waste disposal bin, chunking the soiled towels inside and washing her hands yet again before dousing her hands with ethyl alcohol. Taking a deep, silent breath, she straightened her shoulders and marched back over to Kamijou's bed.

Inspecting the bandages for any sign of seepage, she asked, "Does your leg hurt?" She was quite proud that her voice sounded normal.

With a crooked grin, Kamijou lifted one eyebrow. "If I said it did, would you kiss it and make it feel better?"

A slight flinching was the only confirmation that Kamijou's words affected her. Because images of her kissing and licking and sucking on Kamijou's thigh, his shin, his toes popped unbidden into Fukiyose's mind.

To hide her unseemly thoughts, she nudged her glasses up and sniffed. "If you said it hurt, I would get the biggest, longest, thickest needle I could find and jab you full of pain killers."

The grin faded into a pout, turning Kamijou's rugged male figures, well, cute. Fukiyose seriously questioned her sanity. Not only had she fornicated in a place that should never be sullied thusly, she had just thought a man taller and rougher than her, a man both uncouth and noisy, was adorable. Maybe she should head down to neurology and get a CAT scan.

Bottom lip sticking out, Kamijou whined, "If you're my lover, wouldn't you want to kiss me?"

In the act of pulling Kamijou's sheet back over his tempting, distracting body, Fukiyose stilled. While her hips were aching and her butt was throbbing, a reminder of their sordid activity, she hadn't really thought Kamijou would want more. The fact that he did both elated and terrified Fukiyose. As the silence grew heavy in the room, Kamijou shifted uneasily.

"You…ah…you will go out with me, right? Be my lover?" Unlike his normal confident, brash self, he sounded hesitant, unsure.

The misgivings bubbling within her didn't disappear entirely, but they eased, morphing into hope and, yes, happiness. Of course she couldn't show Kamijou all her cards. The brute was already too pushy, too demanding, too everything.

Taking up the chart he had brought in, Fukiyose looked over the top of her glasses and harrumphed again, hiding a chesire smile. "Maybe if you can beat me at aikido and judo, I will think about it."

"That's great," Kamijou started to sigh relief, but as Fukiyose's words sank in, his eyes widened comically. "Wait, what?! That's not fair! The National Police Academy didn't even teach that at Physical Education classes!"

"And here, I though police officers should at least be competent at that? Then I guess you better start practicing," Fukiyose responded with a careless shrug, then completely contradicted her cool, uncaring words by leaning over and giving Kamijou a hard, swift kiss. "I look forward to seeing the results of your training, Kamijou," he continued lightly, turning on her heel with an idle wave of her hand. But even before she can open the door, she was beaten into it and entering the room was the individuals that Kamijou wanted to see the least, at least right now.

"Touma! I'm back!"

"Hey, you idiot!"

"Huh?! Index, you're back?! That was a quick investiture! And…Mi-Mi-Misaka-saaan?!" The policeman stammered at the sight of Index Librorum Prohibitorum and Misaka Mikoto both bringing baskets of what looked like fruits and goodies.

"Neh, Touma! I'm a full-time nun now!" Index happily narrated as she throws the basket into the bed of the young man, "See? I can now receive full allowance from the English church."

"Sheesh…to think you actually became a police officer," Misaka grimaced as she takes out an apple, "Well, it's not like I had the right to demand what course you will take but then, what happened that got you into this…"

"He got into an accident involving his mission but respect the confidentiality, please," Fukiyose took this cue to cut off the questions resulting from the unexpected reunion, "And also…don't touch him so much. His injury is delicate, right, _Touma-chan_?" Upon hearing the last word—or name—Index and Misaka can only stare incredulously what they heard as their mouths dropped on the floor hilariously. Soon, they began to have twitched veins the moment they saw the physician give her patient a wink.

"Touma…" Index started dangerously, a black ominous spirit spilling over her, "After you got fully healed, it seemed we have a lot of questions that needed answers."

"That's right…" Misaka started snapping her knuckles, "We really need to have a long discussion after this, you idiot…"

"What the?! After ruining my life with Hime-chan, especially you Index, you can't possibly do this!" Kamijou yelled in despair then turned to Fukiyose, only to watch her already leaving the room, "Oi, Fukiyose, you can't just leave after that! Seiri-chan! Seiri!" The loud, complaining voice followed her out the door. He didn't realize that she was actually chuckling until one of the interns walked by and looked at her in surprise. With a cough, she beat back the laughter and proceeded down the hall. Her radiant, happy smile, however stayed with her for the rest of the day.


End file.
